


With Eyes So Dim

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-12
Updated: 2004-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy's on a binge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Eyes So Dim

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

Title: With Eyes So Dim  
Author: HobbitLove  
Feedback:Please and thank you.  
Disclaimer: derrr.  
Summary: Billy's on a binge.  
Many thanks to Dani for her help... Couldn't have gotten through it without her. :)

 

Billy flopped down onto his couch with a sigh. He tipped his beer back, finishing it. Adding it to his heaping pile of beer bottles and cans, he remembered how many times Dom gave him long, involved speeches on the environment and how recycling helped the world and whatnot. Billy could really give a crap about it; but if Dom insisted upon it, it would be done. That's just the way Dom got to Billy, be it good or bad.

Billy reached for another beer. He was still remembering. Such good times had taken place in that apartment in Wellington. They seemed so out of reach these days. Billy loudly gulped down his drink. Added it to the pile. Grabbed another.

Dom hadn't called today. He usually did around 10 pm, if Dom remembered the time difference correctly. Sometimes Billy received drunken phone calls from L.A. with Dom begging Billy for a ride home, even though they were half a world away. Billy didn't mind at all; the phone calls usually came at around noon in Glasgow time. Didn't mind that it was Dom, either. Would it have been Elijah or someone else, he would have told him to bugger off and realize his surroundings. But when Dom called, stumbling over slurred words, absent-mindedly trailing off into other conversation about people Billy didn't recognize the names of--Billy was happy. He smiled, responding with friendly conversation, pretending to barely notice some hooker with a sultry voice trying to persuade Dom to let her give him a great time. Billy hated pretending. Billy was an actor. He was used to pretending. To being someone who he wasn't. So Billy acted. He told Dom the weather was beautiful in Glasgow (it was pouring rain), his girlfriend said hello (his last girlfriend was two months ago), and that he'd been doing well in work and eating well. Sure, he was working, but he didn't care about it and probably didn't go as much as he should. Eating well his foot. If eating well meant drinking till he couldn't see and crying till he was tearless, then Billy ate like a king.

He chucked the empty six-pack box across the room. It was in his way of the rest of the beer.

Billy hadn't slept well in a long time. Not since New Zealand had he had a full night's sleep. That was when Dom and he shared an apartment together. Billy remembered it with a smile. Maybe they'd all have a reunion to have such good times as those. Maybe Dom and he would share an apartment together. Maybe they'd stay up all night just laughing with each other, with no one else to disturb them besides a mumbling television set. Maybe Dom wished for these things also. Maybe Dom wanted Billy the same way Billy longed for Dom. Maybe Billy was being too optimistic for his own good. Three more beer bottles were added to the ever-growing pile.

Time to take out the hard stuff. Billy fished between the cushions. He knew he kept a bottle of vodka there, along with a flask, at least half full, of scotch. Found them. Finally the night begins. Or does it begin to end? As a nightly routine Billy drank all the alcohol in reach, scrambling towards a goal of sweet unconscious bliss. No matter. He had his beloved bottle and nothing else mattered. Except maybe Dom. Always Dom.  
  
Too long had Billy yearned for a "more than friendship" relationship with Dom. He felt stung when Dom would say to reporters "we're not lovers." But how could Dom know not to say such hurtful words? Billy would never tell Dom that he was gay. Billy didn't care for women. Sure, they were fine for a conversation now and then but there was no physical attraction. Billy loved Dom since the moment they met. Maybe Dom knew that, but never looked farther than seeing it as a brotherly love. The scotch was gone.

Billy picked up the phone. He felt like talking to Dom. He dialed the number from the phone's memory. Didn't trust his fingers to be nimble enough to punch in the right numbers.

"Hullo?"

"Heyyy Dom."

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe."

"Time's it there? 'Bout 5 here so...3? You're up too late. Go to bed."

"Felt like talkin to ya. I miss ya, you know. Quite lonely here in Glasgow. But don't you worry. Not too lonely. I've got Mr. Schnopps and Mrs. Budweiser to keep me company tonight."

"I thought as much. Have a hot drink of milk and get to bed with ya. You sound awful."

"And you..soouund beauuuutiful to my own ears, Dom. Absolutely gorgeous. In fact you're the most attractive man I know. If it weren't for your ears I'd bone you quicker than anything."

"God, Billy, now you're speaking rubbish. How many've you had? Certainly more than usual. Where's that bird you're seeing? She there? Lemme speak to her."

"She's not here nor will she ever be. Gone, gone, gone...Billy is freeeee..." Billy trailed off, doing his best impression of Gollum that he could do after drinking so much. He chuckled to himself.

"Aw, I'm sorry Billy. When'd it happen? And why didn't you call. We talk about these things, you know."

"Do we? Haven't talked to you about anyone lately. Didn't talk to you today till now. I missed your phone call. I like hearing your voice everyday."

"Aw shit Bills I forgot. Had lunch with Wood and Astin today. Forgive me?"

Billy pondered it. He didn't, but he wasn't about to say that. "Sure, Dom. Anything for you."

There was some shuffling in the background. "Look, Billy I gotta run. Someone's at the door. I'll talk to you tomorrow, all right? You going to be ok?"

Billy hung up. Didn't feel like telling him another lie. He sighed. Maybe he should go to bed. Maybe he should call Dom up again and apologize for the rude ending of their conversation. Maybe Dom should apologize to him for not calling. So he did already, but it wasn't anywhere near sincere. A tear slipped down Billy's cheek. Is that what their friendship was turning into? A mess of lies and unfelt apologies? Billy didn't think Dom cared much, and that made him sad. He cradled his phone in his arms, squeezing it against his chest. It reminded him of Dom, or at least of his voice. He wanted to talk to Dom again. His wet eyes leaked a tear onto his face.

"Dom?" Billy's voice was a very clear sign that he'd been crying.

"Billy? Billy, whatsamatter? Tell me."

"I...I miss you Dommie." Billy sniffed.

"I miss you too Billy but we're a long way apart. What'd I tell you about that milk? Go make yourself some. Then I want you to go to bed. Hear me?"

Billy sniffed again. "Yes, Dommie, I hear you." He moved to get up, getting quite dizzy as he did so. But he made progress towards his kitchen to get a pan for making warm milk.

"Good. Now I'm in the middle of something so I'll call you again later. OK? You're sure you're all right? The phone cut you off before you answered last time."

Billy took the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Pressed the off button. The room was swimming; he felt like he was trembling and swooning. Billy dropped the pan. Didn't want any warm milk. Wanted some more alcohol. Stumbling over nothing besides his heavy, clumsy feet Billy made his way to the refrigerator. He yanked it open. Oh, good. About half a 12 pack was in the back and some wine in the door.

He left the refrigerator door open with the pale light illuminating his front, making him seem the source of light in the dark, dark room and not the refrigerator. Thus he began on the remnants of the spirits left.

Fuck Dom. Billy'll carry on just exactly the way he was, thank you. Pff. Like warm milk would help him get to sleep any quicker. Not like he'd sleep very well anyway. Most likely wake up an hour or so later, sobbing and crying out for something...someone who'd been wretched from him in a nightmare. Happened all the time. Too bad Billy wasn't accustomed to the ever-persistent nightmares.

Crash. Billy had dropped the wine bottle. There was at least a quarter of it left. Quickly Billy got down on his hands and knees and began to lap at the red liquor like a dog. Shards of glass were mixed in. Some pieces would lap back at Billy's tongue. Soon the wine wasn't the only red liquid on the kitchen floor. Billy continued to slurp at remaining puddles. He couldn't feel his tongue bleed, so he wasn't worried. After licking the dry spots where the wine had pooled several times, double checking that he'd got all of it, he tediously sat up. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. He lazily reached into the refrigerator. The beer seemed to be jumping miles out of his reach at every slap of his hand. He began to grow angry. He felt his eyelids drooping. Not until he'd had at least some of the beer. Not until he finished the last of it. Not until Dom called back. Not until Dom apologized. For what he didn't care. The list was still growing. The idea to call Dom again struck him.

Ring. Ring.

Well what do you know, his cell phone was ringing.

"H'llo?"

"Billy you are still up. I have told you twice now to go to bed."

"Mmmm. And why d'you care?"

"I care because I'm your friend, Billy."

"And what if I don't want to be your friend? What then?"

"What...What? Billy, what's this about?"  
  
"Oh sod off. Not like you want to know anyway. What do you care? That's right. You don't care. Now goodbye, Dominic."  
  
Billy shut off his cell. Then he laid down on his back, reached behind him, and yanked at the telephone cord connected to the wall. It came out with a little bit of a fight. He didn't want to talk to Dom anymore. Felt like listening to music and drinking more. He knew where there might be some more wine.  
  
He crawled army-style into his room and clamored clumsily up onto his bed. Reaching under the covers, he produced liquid treasures. "Eureka," Billy breathed. With somewhat of a battle, Billy worked tops off their bottles. He grabbed for the remote control to his CD player. Pressed play. He cursed when some techno crap blared through his speakers. The radio function had been on. He changed it to the CD function and lowered the volume. Ah, the Searchers. Great sixties band, so he liked to think. Then Billy proceeded to relieve the bottles of their contents.  
  
_A painted jug without a handle_  
A torn and shabby faded rug  
He's a secondhand dealer  
  
"Ah, I know this song." Billy rocked his head from left to right.

 _Getting deeper into debt_  
He's a secondhand dealer  
And he wants what he can get for nothing  
His body's broken like that handle  
His clothes are shabby like that rug  
  
"Now who's that remind you of?" Billy thought to himself, looking down at his torn, faded, unwashed and alcohol-stained shirt. He hiccupped.

 _He's a secondhand dealer_  
Dragging rubbish up a stair  
He's a secondhand dealer  
Breathing heavy 'cause the air costs nothing  
  
"There's a sad line," Billy thought aloud.

 _Trips on a bucket_  
Knocks a cuckoo clock onto the floor  
Leans on a table  
Which collapses and falls right into the door of a cupboard  
  
"Poor old sod." Billy thought about his own home. He always tripped on things. He gulped down the last of his drink.

_Secondhand dealer with his eyes so dim that it could be night  
Secondhand dealer, it's a pity, for he's not a pretty sight_

_A man in such a poor condition_  
Can't have so very long to go  
For the secondhand dealer, life is quickly rushing by  
And the secondhand dealer will be glad 'cause he can die for nothing  
  
A tear leaked down Billy's cheek. He choked on a sob.

 _Gets out a bottle_  
He's a heavy whiskey-drinkin' man  
  
"I like whiskey, too."

 _Walkin' in circles, doesn't see the stairs_  
He falls and breaks his neck, he's a goner  
  
Billy gasped. He'd forgotten about this part of the song.

_Secondhand dealer with his eyes so dim that it could be night  
Secondhand dealer, it's a pity, for he's not a pretty sight_

_Will anybody mourn his passing?_  
Will they pull down the dirty shop?  
Of the secondhand dealer, can we say that someone cried?  
For the secondhand dealer, he was born and then died for nothing  
For nothing, secondhand dealer  
  
Billy was sobbing by now. "I'm crying for you..I'm crying for the secondhand dealer! Can you hear me?!? I'm crying for you! You didn't die for nothing...I'm mourning your passing. Oh, secondhand dealer...secondhand dealer, come back..back..back..."  
  
He took out his cell phone.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dom...Dom...do I have eyes so dim it could be night?" Billy blubbered.  
  
"Billy, for Chrissake this is the third time we've been on the phone tonight. If you fucking hang up on me one more time, I swear I will go to Scotland just to kick your arse. What do you want now. Your eyes are fine, Billy. They're green."  
  
"But, but are they dim? Tell me, Dommie, 'cause I don't want to be a secondhand dealer...Don't wanna be a secondhand dealer..." His voice was thick with tears.  
  
"You _aren't_ a secondhand dealer. You're a respectable actor with loads of cash. Will you stop crying already? You're reminding me of a girl more and more every day."  
  
"But..what if I trip on a bucket? and fall down the stairs? and break my neck? I'm going to die for nothing, Dominic. Just like him. I'm just like him, Dom..."  
  
Billy could almost hear Dom roll his eyes. "Billy. Billy. Get a hold of yourself. Stop drinking. You've had far too much. Take off all you're wearing besides your boxers. I know your clothes are a mess. I want you to climb under the sheets and go to sleep. Are you listening?"  
  
Billy wasn't listening. "I drink _whiskey_ , Dom. I'm going to _die_. And you won't mourn my passing, 'cause no one else will..."  
  
"Billy, what has brought this _on_?"  
  
"Do you really want to know, Dom? Do you? You don't. But I'll tell you. You have brought 'this' on. That's right, you. You are the reason I've been drinking. You are the reason I drink too much every night. You're the reason why I don't sleep at night. You're the reason why I can't keep a girl. You're why I don't _want_ to keep a girl. You're why I don't go out anymore. You're why I wait by the telephone just so I can hear a wee bit of your voice to keep me going. You're why...you're why I'm both alive and dead. And I love you, Dom. And you don't care. You don't care..."  
  
Billy hung up the phone and ignored the ringing that instantly followed. He sobbed and hugged himself. The long-kept secret was out. And he didn't feel any better. Billy proceeded on his hands and knees to the closet. He curled up into a ball on top of his small line of shoes, and eased himself down onto his side. Reaching beyond his head, he felt for yet another bottle. Billy felt his fingers touch glass, and grasped it. There wasn't much left in it but he didn't care. Nobody else cared. So why should he? Billy tore the top off and held the bottle upside down above his head, aiming for his mouth. It poured onto his neck, but after an adjustment he got less than a drop or two in his mouth. Then the bottle was empty. He let the bottle fall to the side.  
  
He felt so weak, so tired. He was free of his burden, yet the weight of it hadn't been lifted. His heavy lids drooped. Billy grasped for something to hold, to clutch to himself in search of comfort. He found a boot. He brought his two arms around it, hugging the boot to his chest, his cheek resting on the ankle of it. And Billy fell asleep like that. Curled up into a ball around a black leather boot in the very corner of his closet, with tearstains winking in the fading moonlight.  


It was evening by the time Billy woke up with a painfully throbbing head.  
  
"Fucking hangover," Billy growled in his thick Scottish accent. It was the only regret he could think of that was a result from the night before. He untangled his arms from around the boot. How'd that get there, he wondered. Billy scooched himself out of his closet, trying to use as little movement as he could. He groaned when he saw the bottles of alcohol scattered across his room. He wasn't sure if he'd had them all the last night or if they had been left lying there from another night. There was a puddle of puke outside his closet. Billy groaned when he saw that some liquid, probably gin, had stained his best leather dress-shoes. Billy stumbled onto his feet, staying still while the room spun around him. When it started slow and finally halted, he proceeded to slowly walk out to his kitchen. He cursed when sharp glass pressed into the soles of his feet. Kicking the shards out of his way, he went into the cupboard. He took out some whiskey, pouring himself a glass. The only way to cure a hangover.  
  
The thought of whiskey hit him so suddenly he dropped the bottle, breaking it when it crashed to the floor. Billy remembered what had happened during the night. He remembered that song, that bloody song. Telephone calls. Dom. Phone calls to Dom. Telling Dom. Oh, shit.  
  
And the cell phone rang. Love that cell phone, just love it.  
  
"What?" Billy demanded. Ignoring his qualms about drinking whiskey, he downed the glass. Anything to stop that sledgehammer from slamming into his forehead again.  
  
"Your director called me. You put me down as your emergency contact? How sweet. Anything you want to tell me, Billy, hmm?"  
  
Fucking Elijah.  
  
"No, actually, there isn't. Thanks for asking."  
  
"Oh, really? Well your director, very nice man by the way, tells me you've neglected to show up for _four fucking days_. Four, Bill! Not one, not two, not even the low number of three, but four! And you're not even _home_. What are you _doing_ , man?"  
  
In the dullest voice Billy could muster, he replied, "Sleeping."  
  
"Well you better fucking stop 'sleeping' and get to work. He is _pissed_. You're a pretty big part of that movie, Bill. They're too far in to find someone else. He told me to tell you that. So you gonna go in?"  
  
"But of course. Sure. Anything for _you_ , Elijah." Insert sarcasm here.  
  
"Bill, I mean it! It may not sound or look it but we're all concerned for you. Don't think we haven't noticed. Just last night Dom called me up, he was shit worried about you. Wouldn't say why. Did you talk to him last night?"  
  
He hated being called "Bill." Reminded him too much of his father. "No. Now stop talking my ear off; I need a pint."  
  
And Billy moved to hang up on someone for the fifth time in 24 hours.  
  
"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE, BOYD!"  
  
Now _that_ wasn't Elijah.  
  
"YES, you. Now stop fucking around! This is your best friend speaking. Dominic Monaghan, I think you know him. What the fuck is going on with you. I expect an answer."  
  
"Best friend, eh? What does being a 'best friend' entail? Being there for someone? That'd be a 'no' for your box there. Paying attention to your friend's needs and not finding your own ten times more important? Another 'no.' Paying attention to your friend in general? There's one hell of a big 'x' next to that. No, Dom. I don't think I have any 'best friends.' I thank you for your concern, though."  
  
"Fuckshit, Billy! I've been trying m-"  
  
Billy hung up. For the fifth time in the past 24 hours. He stuffed his feet into some shoes, grabbed his favourite jacket, and went out the door. He'd been wearing the same "day-clothes" for the past few days. He knew he wasn't presentable, but at least he wasn't wearing pajamas. Billy walked down the sidewalk and ignored the odd looks he received from mothers with their children and the old people with disapproving looks. He turned the corner and went into his favourite shop.  
  
"You think y've got enough whiskey, Bill?"  
  
"Never," Billy smiled.  
  
The man named the price for Billy's insane amount of alcohol that he was purchasing and Billy handed him his credit card.  
  
"Y'mind if I take this cart here to take it all home? Big party later today, had to stock up."  
  
"I don't mind." The man handed Billy's card back. "Just as a tip, I'd shower before your party. You smell like y've been rollin' in liquor."  
  
"Maybe I have."  
  
Billy pushed the cart out of the store and walked home. After a couple of trips, he got his purchases into his flat. He left the cart outside.  
  
The phone was ringing. Billy dropped a 20 pack on top of it. It continued to ring. Blasted thing. Billy kicked the box off of the cell phone.  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"William Boyd, watch your language."  
  
Sean Astin. It's Latin for "mother hen."  
  
"I don't want to talk to you."  
  
"Too bad. What're you doing right now?"  
  
"Counting how many ways I can kill myself. Why?"  
  
"Cause I'm coming over. Yes, I'm in Scotland, about two minutes from your house."  
  
"That's nice. I'm not at home."  
  
"Then you won't mind me going into your flat on St. Catherine's Street?"  
  
Fuck. "Yes, actually I do mind. Turn around an scoot your fat ass back to America, yank."  
  
"I'm not fat anymore! And I take offense to being called a yankee. I'm almost there. See you soon."  
  
Hah. For once, Billy was hung up on. "Lousy brat."  
  
Couldn't be sober if Astin was coming over. It just wouldn't be possible. He'd take all of the alcohol away. Bastard. Billy quickly chugged half a bottle of whiskey and made a face and coughed. He tilted his head up so the drink wouldn't come back up. Then he chugged the rest. The doorbell rang. Right on time. The door swung open. Oh, shit. Should've drunk more whiskey.  
  
Elijah, Dom, and Sean were at the door. Bullshit.  
  
Billy protested at the top of his lungs, screaming at them to get out. They didn't listen. Elijah looked scared when Billy threw the bottle. It hit the wall behind them. Dom and Sean picked Billy up, one at his feet, the other at his arms, and brought him into Billy's room.  
  
Elijah stared open-mouthed at the amount of empty bottles and overall mess in Billy's home. Billy was still yelling. He was dumped onto his bed and cursed when his head hit the wall. Then swore at Sean, insulting his wife and kids. Then he swore at Elijah and let out a few secrets Elijah'd told him about himself. Sean looked either like he was going to cry or beat the shit out of Billy. Elijah was the same. Dom was silent. Billy glared.  
  
Dom spoke in a dulled whisper to Elijah and Sean. They started to protest, but gave way, apparently. The two started to exit and Sean gave Billy a look that promised he'd be back. Oh, goody.  
  
"Out."  
  
"Billy..."  
  
"Out."  
  
"Billy."  
  
"I said fucking get out. Leave me be, Dominic. I don't need you fucking stooges to make me realize what a wretch I'm turning out to be. I've realized it already and just today I saw a therapist to get help."  
  
"Don't FUCKING lie to me, Billy! Unless your therapist's name happens to be Dr. Joe T. Ginandbrandy, you have done no such thing. We need to talk."  
  
"We don't need to talk. We spoke last night and that's all there is to it. So get out of my house and let me live my life in peace."  
  
"You and I, we didn't talk last night. You said shit and hung up. Called again, said shit and hung up. Then you called up and told me you loved me. I think you've gone mad, Bills. And I'm not going to leave you until you've admitted that you binge drink and that you need help. Is that clear?"  
  
Billy thought he was going to cry right then and there. That he's " _gone mad_ "??? Is that what they're calling love now? Dom didn't take him seriously, nor did he love him back. It was heart breaking and Billy didn't know how to handle it. Sadly, he couldn't just hang up on Dom, seeing as he was right there. But it was apparent Dom had hung up on him.  
  
With a gasp-like sob, Billy started to sing. "A man in such a poor condition... Can't have so very long to go..." Another sob escaped his lips. His nose was running, and tears were dripping endlessly. His voice wavered into the next and last line, "And the secondhand dealer..will be glad..'cause he can die...for nothing."  
  
Dom looked concerned..but he was too blurry for Billy to see him. He closed his eyes. The last line echoed in his mind. Maybe Dom knew the song. Maybe Dom didn't know it and thought he was crazy. Maybe Billy hated the song. Maybe the song was Billy. Maybe Billy should stop thinking about songs. Maybe things would turn out OK. Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe when the bottle's empty...the maybe's might stop. Maybe there would never be an answer for Billy at the bottom of a bottle. Maybe...just, maybe...


End file.
